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Lyin' Like a Dog, The Yankee Doctor, The Danged Swamp! 3-Volume set

Page 10

by Richard Mason


  Well, what happened then was really something to see. Brother Taylor didn’t seem to see the red water, and he was reaching for Homer Ray for the third dunking, when Homer Ray let out a yell like nothing you’ve ever heard.

  “Ahaaaaaaa! Blood! Blood! The water’s done turned to blood! The blood is gonna get me! Ahaaaaaaaa! Eyeeeeeeeeee!”

  I glanced over to where the girls were seated, and they had their hands over their mouths in shock.

  Well, we were trying to hold back a huge laugh, and I almost died trying to keep from just hoo-hawing. Brother Taylor never got to dunk Homer Ray that last time because Homer Ray bolted outta that baptistery like a scalded dog, and you could hear him still yelling as he ran outta the church.

  “Yes!” I whispered to John Clayton, “We got ’em!”

  ’Course, I thought that’d be it, and Brother Taylor would come on out of the baptistery and preach his usual hour-long sermon, but, holy cow, before he could come down, people kinda made a big gasp all over the church, and then Brother Taylor looked around and realized all the baptistery water was red and so was his robe. I guess he thought it was a major miracle straight from God. ’Course, everybody in the church saw Brother Taylor’s white robe and baptistery water turn red, then, whoa, hold on to your horses, because they was just one loud “Ohooooooooo!” and things just got wild, and people started shouting, waving their hands, and going on like an out-of -control revival.

  Heck, I looked around, and just plain old church members that had never even said “Amen” in church was wailing and shouting like Jesus was in that baptistery, and then I glanced over to where the girls were sitting, and they were just slap-dab frozen in their seats.

  Heck, this whole thing was getting outta hand and John Clayton was pulling on my sleeve saying, “Oh, my god! Oh, my god! Look what you’ve caused, Richard!”

  “Shut up, John Clayton!”

  Well, I didn’t have time to say nothing else because you could hear people shouting, “Blood! It’s blood! The water’s done turned to blood!” Wow, folks started hitting the floor, swooning or praying or just scared outta their wits. There was a rush up and down the aisle, and ’bout fifty people ran out of the church screaming like the Devil had got them, and Brother Taylor wasn’t helping none.

  “Brothers! Sisters!” he yelled from the baptistery, “The Lord has touched us tonight!”

  Then he held up his hands, which really did look like blood was dripping off them, and everyone could see his baptistery robe was red. My gosh, in my wildest dreams I never expected nothing like what swept over that church. ’Course, Brother Taylor started yelling halleluiahs and praying like a possessed man, holding his hands up, and then he said in the most booming voice, “Judgment Day! Judgment Day! The Lord is coming! The Lord is coming! He’ll be here in an instant! It’s the Second Coming! I can almost hear the trumpets! Lord, come take us away!” Then he said something that I’ll bet he regretted.

  “The Lord is coming! Repent! Repent! Come and confess your sins! Judgment is coming, right here—tonight!”

  Whoa, he shouldn’t have said that because evidently a bunch of folks in the church wasn’t ready for the judgment of the Lord to come, and they started shouting, “Oh, save me, Lord! Save me, Lord,” and then old Miss Parson, who’s about one hundred and six, lay down on the Lord’s supper table, held up her hands, and screamed, “Take me to heaven, Lord!”

  Well, that was wild enough, but then a bunch of people started repenting―you know—confessing their sins out loud, heck, shouting their confessions as loud as they could, like the Lord was deaf or something. I thought Norphlet was a quiet little town where people just went about their business, but when them confessions started rolling out, I knew real quickly that there was stuff going on that I didn’t have a clue about. Things kinda went crazy for a couple of minutes; then the Chairman of Deacons, Claude McAlister stood up and said, “Oh, Lord, forgive me!” and when he said that everybody got real quiet for just a second. Then he said in his loud, squeaky voice, “I’ve been sleeping with…” I didn’t catch the last part, but evidently a bunch of folks did because there was this big gasp, and then, heck, they was a stampede of people heading down front to pray, and Brother Taylor started outta the baptistery. Then, when he was coming up the steps, he looked down and saw the jar that had the red food coloring in it. There was a little bit left, and he picked up the jar, shook his head, and headed for the pulpit.

  When Brother Taylor came down outta the baptistery he had to come in the side door and walk right past the row of girls sitting on the side front row, and he was in such a hurry to get into the church and tell everybody it was food coloring that he just ran in swinging his arms and yelling to get everybody’s attention. Heck, he sure got those girls’ attention when he burst through the door in that red baptistery robe with red food coloring dripping off of it. Them girls were just plastered back against that pew with their mouths open. Well, all that arm waving by Brother Taylor slung red food coloring all over the row of girls, which they thought was blood, and you should have heard them scream.

  Shoot, I looked at Rosalie, and that red food coloring was dripping off her nose, and then, after another set of screams, the girls scattered like a covey of quail.

  Heck, me, John Clayton, and Ears had been sitting there with our mouths open, just watching everything, and John Clayton was going on and on about what we had caused. Heck, we couldn’t take none of it back now, so I knew the time had come to bail outta the church.

  “Come on, let’s get outta here!” I whispered to Ears and John Clayton as I scooted out of my seat. We hit the back door of the church running before anybody could look around and point any fingers. As we sprinted down the front steps, I heard, “Richard, what did I tell you?” I looked to my left, and there stood Connie, grinning like a possum. “Was I right?” she yelled at us as we took off down the sidewalk and headed away from the church. Shoot, I learned a long time ago that when a girl is right, she’ll rub it in until kingdom come, so I sure didn’t wanna stop and have her say ‘I told you so’ forty-eleven times.”

  Well, according to Tiny, who stayed until the end of the service, Brother Taylor ran up to the pulpit holding up the jar, but heck, he couldn’t yell loud enough, and he had to walk down in the congregation, which sent everybody into a bunch of “Oohs” and “Ahaaaaaas,” like he was like Moses parting the Red Sea, and people were swept back like God Almighty was walking through the church. Heck, they was dropping like flies and yelling so loudly they couldn’t hear Brother Taylor say it was red food coloring, and when the red food coloring dripped on folks, they’d swoon like they had been hit by lightning.

  “Food coloring! Food coloring! It’s food coloring! It’s not blood!” he screamed. Well, it took about five minutes before the word reached the back of the church, and when everybody quit yelling, Brother Taylor went back to the microphone at the pulpit and said, “Folks, evidently this was a practical joke, but let me tell you something: The person or persons who did this is going to have to answer to me and God, and when I get through with ’em, there ain’t gonna be much left for God!”

  Well, he shouldn’t have said that because old man Simpson, who’s about ninety, just let out the biggest hee-haw you ever did hear, and then there was a few snickers and, heck, everybody just broke up.

  The next day, that dummy Homer Ray came by the breadbox, and his light blond hair was still kinda red. Heck, I couldn’t resist that.

  “Did the blood get ya, Homer Ray?”

  “Dang you, Richard, you sorry, worthless rat; one of these days you’ll get yours!”

  “Yeah, maybe, but not today, Red!”

  ’Course, everybody just hoo-hawed, and stupid Homer Ray stomped away, but not before he looked back and shook his fist at us.

  “By god, so help me! I’m gonna get y’all, if it’s the last thing I do. Just wait; y’all is gonna get it! I mean it! Y’all is gonna get it!”

  ’Course we just laughed and hollered
, “Red! Red! Red!”

  Dang, he was mad, and I told John Clayton to watch out for that sorry kid.

  We sat there on the breadbox, laughed, retold the “blood” story a bunch of times, and just about the time we were ready to leave I looked up.

  “Whoa, get ready for some big time lyin’, John Clayton, ’cause here comes Freckles and Rosalie. Remember, if you tell Rosalie, it’s just like tellin’ Brother Taylor, who’ll go right to your daddy.”

  John Clayton had this little whiny look because he has trouble lyin’. Heck, I’m one of the best in town, so when the girls walked up, I just went on and on about who could have done that trick.

  “Well, we don’t believe you, Richard!” yelled Rosalie. “Do we, Freckles?”

  “No, we don’t.”

  “We got that red water all over us and it almost scared me to death,” screamed Rosalie. “John Clayton, surely you’re not gonna let Richard stand there and lie. Now tell us. Did y’all do it?”

  I broke in before John Clayton could confess and said, “I’ll swear on a stack of Bibles a mile high we didn’t have nothin’ to do with that trick.” ’Course, I had my fingers and toes crossed so that swearing didn’t count. John Clayton still had that ‘I’m lyin’ like a dog’ look on his face, but finally the girls walked away after Rosalie told me I was gonna go straight to hell not only for that trick, but for swearing on a Bible. I hated that Rosalie was mad at me, but, shoot, that was such a good trick that everybody in town was talking about it, and it did kinda make us feel good to have pulled something on that worthless Homer Ray. By gollee, we’d gotten even.

  Well, me and John Clayton stayed away from Brother Taylor for the next week, hoping he’d calm down and wouldn’t try to pin the red food coloring trick on us, and after a week passed, we relaxed. Then, all we could talk about for the next week was Curly and the bootleggers down in Flat Creek Swamp and what we needed to do about it. Well, I remember sitting on that danged breadbox just worrying up a storm when John Clayton said just right outta the blue, “Richard, there’s just one thing to do.”

  “Huh? Do ’bout what?”

  “Them danged bootleggers, that’s what. Listen, it’s real simple when you think ’bout it. We just need to do the right thing.”

  “Well, yeah, but what’s the right thing?”

  “You tell me, Richard. Is it doing nothin’ and letting that sorry bootlegger who shot at us get away with it?”

  “Naw, I can tell you right now, that’s not the right thing to do.”

  “Okay, then, if doin’ nothin’ is the wrong thing, then doing something is bound to be the right thing.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, stupid, we gotta do something, and quit puttin’ off turnin’ in them sorry bootleggers.”

  ’Course, I guess turning in the bootleggers had been put outta my mind, but John Clayton was right. We had to turn them in. The State Police needed to raid that still.

  “Okay, John Clayton, I’ll tell you what let’s do. We can go see Curly and see if he’ll call the State Police. If he does, then we can give ’em directions, but if Curly don’t call the State Police, then we’ll know for danged sure he’s workin’ with the bootleggers.”

  “Yeah, Richard, and then when we do get to talk to the State Police we can tell ’em Curly is part of that sorry bunch.”

  John Clayton agreed, and we headed down to Peg’s place, where we were pretty sure we’d find old Curly drinking beer. Sure enough we peaked through the swinging doors and there was Curly standing at the bar just gulping down a big mug of beer.

  “Curly! Curly!” It took a couple of minutes until Peg, the bartender, heard us, and he shook Curly and pointed toward the door. Curly frowned, put his beer down, and walked out on the sidewalk to talk with us.

  “Boys, I’m sure as hell busy, and I ain’t got time to hear none of your foolishness.”

  “Curly, this is important, real important. We know where a crime is being committed,” said John Clayton.

  “Huh? What kinda crime?”

  “Bootleggin’, Curly; we found a huge still down in Flat Creek Swamp and it’s kickin’ out moonshine like you wouldn’t believe,” I said.

  “Is that a fact?”

  “Yeah, Curly, and they’s a man that shoots at folks who come around,” said John Clayton.

  Curly took a minute to take in that bit of news, and then I swear he kinda smiled and said, “Boys, I’ll take care of that little matter first thing tomorrow.”

  “Why don’t ya call the State Police right now, Curly?” John Clayton said.

  “Now, John Clayton, I don’t believe I need no eleven-year-old boy a-telling me how to do my job. Y’all boys don’t worry none ’bout it. I’ll take care of them moonshiners.”

  With that, he turned and walked back in the pool hall. I looked at John Clayton, who was shaking his head. “Heck, Richard, Curly’s not gonna turn in them bootleggers; he didn’t even ask where the still was.”

  “Naw, he ain’t. Heck, he’s probably just gonna get that old man who runs the still to give him some more money for not turnin’ ’em in.”

  Well, we weren’t surprised about Curly. We waited a couple of days, and of course, there wasn’t a word in the papers about the police raiding a still. There was no doubt in our minds that old Curly was as guilty as sin and part of the gang.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The Funny Book Collectors get a Partner

  With all the stuff that was going on that summer, it was durn hard to keep our minds on trying to gather up the eight hundred funny books to trade Ears outta the upside-down funny book. At last count we had a few over four hundred, and it was time to get serious about coming up with the rest, but, heck, we’d scraped up every cent we had to buy funny books, and we’d even sold coke-cola bottles that we’d found to make a little extra money. We were sitting on the breadbox talking, and I was trying to come up with some way that we could trade or somehow get the rest of the funny books. ’Course, I was sure getting Rosalie to be a partner would be great since she’d have a bunch of funny books, and when we told her how much the upside-down funny book was worth, she wouldn’t be mad at me any more. I decided to try one more time to convince John Clayton to make Rosalie a partner.

  “Who would have the most funny books, besides Ears?” I asked John Clayton.

  “Danged if I know! Probably some rich kid in El Dorado.”

  “Yeah, but in Norphlet, who do you think?”

  “I don’t know? Maybe the richest kid in school.”

  “The richest kid in school is Rosalie, and remember she reads a funny book only once. Shoot, she may have stacks and stacks of funny books that are just piled up in her room.”

  “Well, Richard, since she’s just barely speakin’ to you since the red-food-dye trick, I don’t think she’ll hand over them funny books to you.”

  “Yeah, I know, but what if we told her that the upside-down funny book was worth a bunch of money, and if she would give us her funny books, we’d give her a share of the money?”

  “Give away part of the money? Heck, no! I ain’t giving that stuck-up girl none of the money.”

  “Well, Mr. Smarty, then just tell me how you’re gonna get the rest of those funny books.”

  ’Course, John Clayton knew we’d just about come up with as many as we could, and if we didn’t get some help, we’d never get the upside-down funny book.

  Finally, he nodded. “Okay, you see if she’ll give us all her funny books, and we’ll give her a hundred dollars when we sell the upside-down funny book.”

  “Shoot, I can tell you right now she ain’t gonna go for that. Heck, when we show her the upside-down stamp, she’s going to want an equal share, especially if she has enough funny books to get us up to the eight hundred we need.”

  Well, John Clayton didn’t want to give Rosalie an equal share, but the longer we talked, the more we realized we couldn’t come up with the eight hundred funny books without her help.

  “Oka
y, Richard, you ask her, but you’re givin’ away thousands of dollars.”

  “Heck, I ain’t givin’ away nothin’. You can’t give away something you don’t have.”

  John Clayton kinda nodded, and I thought about having Rosalie as a partner. Heck, I made that little sickly smile, and John Clayton looked at me and just hooted.

  “You sorry son-of-a-gun! You’re moonin’ over that danged Rosalie again!”

  ’Course, I tried to lie my way out of that little smile, but it didn’t work. Finally, John Clayton agreed: Without Rosalie’s funny books we’d never get enough to trade with Ears.

  ***

  I was hanging around the breadbox the next day when I saw Rosalie coming down the street. Well, here goes.

  “Hey, Rosalie, come here I’ve got something I wanna show you.”

  I could tell Rosalie really didn’t want to come over and talk to me, but she finally did stroll over and kinda frown at me.

  “This better be good, Richard.”

  “Oh it is, Rosalie. Look at this.” I held out the World Book page that had the upside-down stamps on it and pointed out where it said they were worth thousands of dollars.

  “Yeah, so what?”

  “Ears’s funny book has an upside-down cover, and it’s fifty times as big as those little stamps. Me and John Clayton think that funny book may be worth thousands, maybe a million dollars.”

  I could tell that kinda shocked Rosalie, and then she read the World Book page again, and I could tell her mind was just a-clicking.

  She looked at me a little funny and then said, “Yeah, you may be right, but why are you telling me?”

  Then I pulled out the paper Ears had signed where he said he would trade the upside-down funny book for eight hundred regular funny books.

  “Look at this, Rosalie, Ear’s will trade the upside-down funny book for eight hundred funny books. We’ve got over four hundred, and we thought you might like to join us and be a partner if you have a bunch of old funny books round your house.”

 

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